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The Moki Snake Dance 



cA popular account of that unparalleled 

dramatic pagan ceremony of the 

Pueblo Indians of Tusayan, 

cArizona, <ivith incidental 

mention of their life 

and customs. 



BY WALTER HOUGH, PH. D. 



Sixty-four Half-tone Illustrations from 
Special Photographs. 



FORTY-SEGOND THOUSAND. 



Published by Passenger Department 

THE SANTA FE. 

I90J 



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^^^^^H TUST at the dawn of an August morning 

^L ^^Vb I groups of eager watchers sit along the 

^^^^Ky I precipitous cliffs or slopes of a mesa 

^^^Hl y bearing on its crest a Moki village. All 

^^^^P faces are turned in one direction ; the graj^ 

^PHI light becomes many-hued before the near 

Mm approach of the sun. A umrmur passes 

m M>^ through the crowd ; in the distance a number 

m Wf^ of dark forms are seen running toward the 

M^mm mesa ; nearer they come, pursued by boys and 

^rm^ girls with wands of cornstalk, and run up the 

RACER. tortuous trail as though on level ground. As 

the sun appears above the eastern- horizon the 

winner passes over the roof of the Snake kiva and the 

day of the Snake dance has begun with the Snake race. 

The runners deposit the melon vines, corn and other 

products they have carried from the fields, and the 

panting victor gets for his prize the glory of winning. 

As in the Greek games, the Mokis honor the swift 

runner. 

As the day wears on the interest centers in the kivas, 
where swarthy priests are bringing to a close the myste- 
rious rites begun days before, when the astronomer Sun 
priest had directed the town crier to announce the com- 
mencement of the ceremony. Since that time the priests 
had descended into the kiva, and a fleet runner had each 
day carried plumed prayer-sticks to the distant springs 
and shrines. Four days to the north, west, south and 
east snakes had been hunted. Then came the Antelope 
dance on the evening before the Snake dance; the sixteen 
songs and drama were enacted in the kiva while the 




Snake race was being run, and the time '^"'^ 

is now ripe for the final spectacle. The 

snakes have been washed and placed in jars and 

the costuming begins. Long-haired, painted priests in 

scanty attire emerge from the kivas and go on various 

errands. Visitors and Mokis examine one another with 

mutual curiosity; the children are having a jolly time, 

for the Snake dance comes in their village but once in 

two years, and white visitors are sure to bring candy to 

put a climax to the stuffing of new corn, melons and 

other good things of August. 

Other dances of the Mokis are more pleasing, as the 
Kachina dances, with their mirth and music, or the 
Flute dance, full of color and ceremony, but the Snake 
dance attracts with a potent fascination. One gets so 
interested in the progress of the dance that the antici- 
pated element of horror does not appear amid the 
rhythmic movement and tragic gestures of the dancers 
with here and there the sinuous undulation of a venom- 
ous rattlesnake. Along the sky-line of the houses and 
on every available foothold and standing place are spec- 
tators. At Wolpi, the top of the mushroom-shaped 
rock is a favorite seat. The crowd is hardly less inter- 
esting than the dancers. Everyone, except the white 
visitor, is in gala costume, Moki and Navajo vying in 
gaudy colors. The Moki maidens have their hair done 



up in great whorls of shining blackness at the sides of 
their heads. The women, who have brushed away the 
evidences of preparation for the feast to follow the dance, 
now appear at their best, and the children dash around, 
consuming unlimited slices of watermelon. Mormons, 
be-pistoled cowboj's, prospectors, army officers, teachers 
from the schools, scientists, photographers, and tourists 
in the modern costume suitable for camp life, mingle 
with the Indian spectators in motley confusion. Not 
less than one hundred white people witnessed the Snake 
dance at Wolpi in 1897. Kacli j-ear there is a larger 
attendance. 

If the visitor will look around he will see that at one 
side of the dance plaza there is a 1)ower of green cotton- 
wood branches, the kisi, where the snakes are to be kept 
in readiness during the dance. The descending sun 
casts a long shadow eastward from the kisi when a priest 
enters the plaza with a bag containing the reptiles and 

quickly disappears 
among the branches. 
This is the man who 
hands the snakes 




out to the 
dancers 
through a 
small open 
ing in the 




front of the kisi. The expectancy now 
is intense. All eyes are fixed in the 
direction from which the priests will 
appear. The sun sinks lower and the 
evening colors steal into the landscape, 
but no one notices them. 

* ' Here they come ! ' ' The grand 
entry of the Antelope priests causes a 
sensation. With bare feet, and their 
semi-nude bodies streaked with white 
paint ; a band of white on the chin 
from mouth to ear, rattles of tortoise 
shell tied to the knee, embroidered 
kilts of white cotton fastened around 
the loins, necklaces of 
shell and turquoise, and 
fox skins hanging behind 
from the belt, these priests 
present a startling though 
not unattractive appear- 
ance. At the head of the 
file comes the Antelope 
Chief bearing his tiponi or sacred badge across his left 
arm. Next comes the bearer of the medicine bowl. All 
the other priests carry a small rattle in either hand. 
With stately mien, and looking to neither right nor left, 
the Antelope priests pass four times around the plaza to 
the left, each sprinkling sacred meal and stamping 
violently upon the plank in the ground in front of the 
kisi. The hole in the middle of the plank is the opening 
into the under-world and the dancers stamp upon it to 
inform the spirits of their ancestors that a ceremony is 
in progress. Fortunate is the man who breaks the board 
with his foot ! When the circuit is made, the Antelope 
priests line up in front of the kisi facing outward ; there 
is a hush and the Snake priests enter. 



Copyright, lUdO, l>j G. tr liartoii .htmes. Uxcd bij pernussion 
ANTELOPE PRIEST. 



6 



The grand entry of the Snake priests is dramatic to 
the last degree. With majestic strides they hasten into 
the plaza, every attitude full of energy and fierce 
determined purpose. The costume of the priests of the 
sister society of Antelopes is gay in comparison with 
that of the Snake priests. Their bodies rubbed with 
red paint, their chins blackened and outlined with a 
white stripe, their dark red kilts and moccasins, their 
barbaric ornaments, give the Snake priests a most 
somber and diabolical appearance. Around the plaza, 
by a wider circuit than the Antelopes, they go striking 
the sipapu plank with the foot and fiercely leaping 
upon it with wild gestures. Four times the circuit is 
made ; then a line is formed facing the line of the 
Antelopes, who cease shaking their rattles which simu- 
late the warning note of the rattlesnake. A moment's 
pause and the rattles begin again and a deep humming 
chant accompanies them. The priests sway from side 

1 




FLUTE DANCE, ORAIBI. lliyyins, photo 



to side, sweeping their eagle-feather snake whips toward 
the ground ; the song grows louder and the lines sway 
backward and forward toward each other like two long, 
undulating serpents. The bearer of the medicine walks 
back and forth between the lines and sprinkles the 
charm liquid to the compass points. 

All at once the Snake line breaks up into groups of 
three, composed of the "carrier" and two attendants. 
The song becomes more animated and the groups dance 
or rather hop, around in a circle in front of the kisi, one 
attendant (the "hugger") placing his arm over the 
shoulder of the "carrier " and the other (the " gatherer") 
walking behind. In all this stir and excitement it has 
been rather difficult to see why the " carrier " dropped on 
his knees in front of the kisi ; a moment later he is seen 
to rise with a squirming snake, which he places midw^ay 
in his mouth, and the trio dance around the circle, fol- 
lowed by other trios bearing hideous snakes. The 
* ' hugger ' ' waves his feather wand before the snake to 
attract its attention, but the reptile inquiringly thrusts 

its head against the 
"carrier's" breast and 
cheeks and twists its 
body into knots and 
coils. On come the 
demoniacal groups, to 
music now deep and 
resonant and now ris- 
ing to a frenzied pitch, 
accompanied by the un- 
ceasing sibilant rattles 
of the Antelope chorus. 
Four times around and 
the "carrier" opens 
his mouth and drops 
the snake to the ground 




SPECTATORS, WOLPI. 




KACHINA DANCERS. 



and the "gatherer" dextrously 
picks it up, adding in the same 
manner from time to time other 
snakes, till he may have quite a 
bundle composed of rattlesnakes, 
bull snakes and arrow snakes. 
The bull snakes are large and 
show}', and impressive out of 
proportion to their harmfulness. 
When all the snakes have been 
duly danced around the ring, 
and the nerve tension is at its 
highest pitch, there is a pause; 
the old priest advances to an 
open place and sprinkles sacred 
meal on the ground, outlining a 
ring with the six compass poi^t'fe, 

while the Snake priests gather around. At a given 

signal the snakes are thrown on the meal drawing' and 

a wild scramble for them ensues, amid 

a rain of spittle from the spectators on 

the walls above. Only an instant and 

the priests start up, each with one or 

more snakes ; away they dart for the 

trail to carry the rain - bringing mes- 
sengers to their native hiding places. 

They dash down the mesa and reappear 

far out on the trails below, running 

like the wind with their grewsome bur- 
dens. The Antelope priests next march 

gravely around the plaza four times, 

thumping the sunken plank, and file 

out to their kiva. The ceremony is 

done. 

Stay ! there is another scene in 

this drama which may seem a fitting 




NAVAJO SPECTATOR. 



termination. Whoever wishes may go to look on, but 
not everyone goes. The Snake priests return, go to 
the kiva and remove all their trappings, come out 
to the edge of the cliff where the medicine women 
have brought great bowls of a dark liquid brewed 
in secrecy and mystery. No one knows the herbs and 
spells in this liquid but Salako of Wolpi, the head 
Snake woman of the Moki pueblos. The priests drink 
of the medicine ; in about forty-five seconds it sees 
the light of day again. They repeat the opera- 
tion, and so goes on a scene that beggars descrip- 
tion. Kven scientific equanimity cannot observe with- 
out qualms that this is a purification ceremony, carried 
out by the priests with the ruthlessness of devotion. 
This feature of the dance, however, will never become 
popular. Various explanations of the purpose of the 
medicine have been current. It has been supposed, 
among others, to be the antidote for the venom of the 
rattlesnake. Probably it is only for ceremonial purifica- 
tion ; at any rate it is a good preparation for the great 



feast following the 

For this feast 

come bearing trays 




dance. 

fair maidens and trim women 
of gala bread, well cooked meat, 
corn pudding and other dain- 
ties and substantials in pro- 
fusion. That night there is 
feasting and every Moki 
gets what the cow- 
boys call a " mortal 
gorge. ' ' Next day 
and the day follow- 
ing the boys and 
girls have great sport 
in the pueblos. A 
young man will take 
a ribbon, a piece of 



DANCE ROCK AND KISl 




MOKI GIRLS. 



Hiliers, photo. 



11 



L ofC. 




Copyright, 1896, by G. Wharton Jantes. 

ANTELOPE CIRCUIT, ORAIBI. 



uy i)e>-mission. 



pottery or any other object and appear on the house- 
tops or street, only to be set upon and chased by the 
girls bent on securing the prize. 

Many questions suggest themselves to everyone who 
witnesses the Snake dance. Some do not seem to be 
very easy to answer, and some are those which, perhaps, 
the wisest and most lore-learned priest cannot answer 
now after the lapse of centuries since 
the ceremony began. Still, most of us 
can leave them for the scien- 
tists to pore over. 
What everyone wants 
to know »i 




CIRCUIT OF ANTEUOPE PRIESTS, WOLPI. 



Vrotnan, photo. 



is whether the snakes are drugged or have their fangs 
removed, and, if not, whether they ever Inte their captors. 
Men who have attended as many as ten dances in various 
Moki pueblos say that they have never seen a dancer 
bitten by a poisonous snake, while others have seen a 
reptile strike or perhaps fasten upon the hand of a 
dancer and require to be shaken off. In the present 
state of the question everyone must judge for himself. 
One thing is very certain, the Mokis are extremely care- 
ful with a poisonous snake. At Wolpi, in 1897, two 




ENTRANCE OF SNAKE PRIESTS, WOLPI. 



Vroman, photo. 



large rattlesnakes, which from their age had perhaps 
been danced around the ring before, coiled together and 
for a time refused to move, almost breaking up the per- 
formance. An experienced snake driver at length suc- 
ceeded in making them uncoil, when they were easily 
picked up. This is thought to be the secret of handling 
the rattlesnake ; never to handle him when he is coiled, 
for it is said that this serpent cannot strike without 



13 



coiling. Then, too, the snakes may have been some- 
what subjugated by their bewildering treatment, since 
they were dragged from their haunts by naked men 
armed with hoes and sticks, thrust with other snakes 
into a bag and brought to the kivas, and afterward 
washed and uncivilly flung about. 

The Snake dance is exciting enough, but the two or 
three men who have witnessed the sinister rites called 
"snake washing" in the dark kiva tell a story which 
makes the blood curdle. Doctor Fewkes relates this 
experience as follows : 

"The Snake priests, who stood by the snake jars which were 
in the east corner of the room, began to take out the reptiles, and 
stood holding several of them in their hands behind Su-pe-la, so 
that my attention was distracted by them. Su-pe-la then 
prayed, and after a short interval two rattlesnakes were 
handed him, after which other venomous snakes were 
passed to the others, 
and each of the six 
priests who sat around 
the bowl held two rat- 
tlesnakes by the necks 
with their heads ele- 
vated above the bowl. 
A low noise from the 
rattles of the priests. 




CIRCUIT OF SNAKE PRIESTS, WOLPI. 




Copyright, 18^6, by G. H''h(i}ton James. 

ANTELOPES IN LINE, ORAIBI. 



Used by 2>ei-»iis.sioH. 



which shortly after was accompanied by a melodious hum by 
all present, then began. The priests who held the snakes beat 
time up and down above the liquid with the reptiles, which, 
although not vicious, wound their bodies around the arms of the 
holders. The song went on and frequently changed, growing 
louder and wilder, until it burst forth into a fierce, blood-cur- 
dling yell, or war-cry. At this moment the heads of the snakes 
were thrust several times into the liquid, so that even parts 
of their bodies were submerged, and were then drawn out, 
not having left the hands of the priests, and forcibly thrown 
across the room upon the sand mosaic, knocking down the 
crooks and other objects placed about it. As they fell on the sand 
picture three Snake priests stood in readiness, and while the rep- 
tiles squirmed about or coiled for defense, these men with their 
snake whips brushed them back and forth in the sand of the altar. 
The excitement which accompanied this ceremony cannot be 
adequately described. The low song, breaking into piercing 
shrieks, the red-stained singers, the snakes thrown by the chiefs, 
and the fierce attitudes of the reptiles as they landed on the sand 
mosaic, made it next to impossible to sit calmly down and quietly 



15 




LINE-UP BEFORE KISI, WOLPI. 

note the events which followed one after another in quick succes- 
sion. The sight haunted nie for weeks afterwards, and I can never 
forget this wildest of all the aboriginal rites of this strange people, 
which showed no element of our present civilization. It was a per- 
formance which might have been expected in the heart of Africa 
rather than in the American Union, and certainly one could not 
realize that he was in the United States at the end of the nineteenth 
century. The low weird song continued while other rattlesnakes 
were taken in the hands of the priests, and as the song rose again 
to the wild war-cry, these snakes were also plunged into the liquid 
and thrown upon the writhing mass which now occupied the place 
of the altar. Again and again this was repeated until all the snakes 
had been treated in the same way, and reptiles, fetiches, crooks 
and sand were mixed together in one confused mass. As the 
excitement subsided and the snakes crawled to the corners of the 
kiva, seeking vainly for protection, they w^ere again pushed back 
in the mass, and brushed together in the sand in order that their 



16 



bodies might be thoroughly dried. Every snake in the collection 
was thus washed, the harmless varieties being oathed after the 
venomous. In the destruction of the altar by the reptiles the snake 
ti-po-ni stood upright until all had been washed, and then one of 
the priests turned it on its side, as a sign that the observance had 
ended. The low, weird song of the Snake men continued, and 
graduallj- died away until there w'as no sound but the warning 
rattle of the snakes, mingled with that of the rattles in the hands 
of the chiefs, and finally the motion of the snake 
whips ceased, and all was silent."* 




CHANTING BEFORE KISI, WOLPl. 



Vronuiii, iitioto. 



The Mokis have an antidote for snake bite made from 
the root of a plant called by botanists Gaura parviflora. 
They do not know the white man's fiery antidote and 
panacea, but expert opinion declares that one remed}' is 
as good as the other. Snakes are scarce in Tusayan, 
although the}' seem plentiful at the Snake dances. Still, 



*The Snake Ceremony at Wolpi, Jour. Am. Eth. & Arch., Vol. 
IV, pp. 84, 85. 



17 




it requires four 
days of vigilant 
search to the four 
points of the com- 
pass to procure 
enough. Some 
3'ears ago, a Wolpi 
farmer, while in 
his cornfield, was 
bitten on the hand 
by a rattlesnake, 
and the combined efforts of the Indian doctors and 
some white people who happened to be near by were 
applied for his relief. After a great deal of suffering 
he recovered. Soon after, the Snake Society informed 
him that he must become a Snake priest, 
because he was favored by the rattlesnake. 
Perhaps Intiwa, for that was his name, did %(- 



Copyright, 1896, hi/ G. Wh((rloti Janus. Used hi/ jieriiiission 
FACE VIEW, SNAKE PRIESTS, ORAIBI. 



t3( 







CHANTING BEFORE KISI, ORAIBI. 



Maudi', iihoto. 




TRIO OF DANCERS. 



not see where the favor came 
iu, but he was duly installed 
as a member of the Society. 
Turning now from this 
strange, nerve -wrenching 
scene, which many have 
crossed the mysterious 
Painted Desert north of the 
Little Colorado river to wit- 
ness, some general account 
of the Mokis should be inter- 
esting. Perched upon high, 
warm-tinted sandstone 
mesas, narrow like the decks 
of great Atlantic liners, are their clustered dwellings, 
scarcely to be distinguished from the living rock 
upon which they rest. High up above the plain, 
viewing from all sides an almost illimitable distance, 
basking in the brilliant sunshine from sunrise to sunset, 
bathed in the pure, life-giving air, the Mokis, or " good 
people,"* as they delight to call themselves, must feel 
freedom in its truest sense. Here is isolation. In the 
long centuries the Mokis have dwelt here they have had 
few visitors. The all-venturing Spaniards, in their six- 
teenth century quest for the mythical 
doorposts of gold set with jewels, were 
way- weary long before their toilsome 
iourney brought them to the base of the 
giant mesas. In this semi-desert, far out 
of the trail traveled by friends and 
foes, the Mokis found the desired 

*The name by which these people are 
known among themselves is Hopi, whose 
signification is as stated. Moki is a derisive 
name, originally applied by outsiders, 
which unfortunately seems fated to 
stick. 



19 




Copyright, 1896, by 



, Maude. 



Used by pet'tniision. 
DANCERS. ORAIBI. 



seclusion and peace after the harrying of the Apache 
and Ute, whose hand was against every man. 

Perhaps the word mysterious as appHed to the desert 
may need explanation to city-dwellers and those who are 
accustomed to limited horizons. In the desert a new sen- 
sation comes to those who have exhausted the repertory of 
sensations at the end of a rapid century. In the desert 
the desert is supreme. The sense of freedom and exhil- 
aration, which everyone must feel, is personal ; the des- 
ert is titanic ; gradually it com- 
pels awe and wonder. A feeling 




Cojyy light, 1896, bi/ F. H. Maude. 

THE DANCE, ORAIBI. 



Used bi/ jierniissfon. 



of vastuess, almost infinity, dawns in the mind with 
an impression of mystery. Here thousands of square 
miles stretch in iridescent beaut}- to the violet horizon 
or to the velvety blue mountains ; nearer stand the 
strange forms of the volcanic buttes ; across the sand 
plain the purple cloud shadows float, attended by 
the tawny sand whirlwinds ; a distant thunderstorm 
marches along, dwarfed in all its energy to a small part 
of the scene. The morning and evening reveal new 



20 



coloring and beauty beyond the power of pen or pencil 
to depict. With the night new experiences come in the 
desert. In the clear air of Tusayan myriads of stars are 
revealed. It is not often the good fortune of the astron- 
omer to enjoy such skies for observation. Stars of low 
magnitude, rarely seen elsewhere, are easily found in 
the night heavens of Tusayan. It may seem like 
romancing, but it is true, the powdery, misty starlight 
is strong enough to admit of reading the dial of a watch 
and to distinguish the outline of mesas and buttes miles 
away. Then the silence of the night is overpowering. 
Not a cricket chirps and no animal disturbs the almost 
oppressive silence. 

When the conquistadores came to Tusayan, some 
three hundred and fifty years ago, they found the Mokis 
high up on the mesas, but not on the rocky tops where 
the towns are now built. This meeting of the Conquerors 




THE DANCE. WOLPl. 



Vroman, photo. 




FOOD BRINGING. 



Votit, 2^li"to 



and the Mokis has always 
seemed a picturesque sub- 
ject. The Spaniards re- 
corded their experiences 
and the Mokis relate the 
traditions of the experi- 
ences of their forefathers 
passed along by word of 
mouth, accurate as if 
written down. Beneath 
the town then perched 
on the higher slope of 
the Wolpi mesa, came a band of horsemen, some clad 
in armor and warlike trappings badly damaged and 
battered by wear and tear, but impressive to the 
Indian, who for the first time saw the white man. 
Perhaps the Mokis were not very friendly. The war- 
rior priest strode down the trail followed by his band 
and drew a line of sacred meal across the path to 
the town, over which, according to immemorial custom, 
no one might come with impunity. This "dead line " 
brought death instead to the Mokis. At the fire of the 
dreadful guns they fled up the narrow trail to refuge. 
The Spaniards dared not follow up the rocky way, but 
camped for the night by a spring. In the morning the 
timorous Mokis came down with presents of food and 
woven stuffs. This is the first picture of the Mokis of 
Wolpi, who were thus introduced to the proud Castilian, 
bent on reaching new lands to despoil. Later came a 
new company, bringing priests to turn the peaceful peo- 
ple from their native superstitions. When the town of 
Wolpi burst upon their view it was a new town, built on 
the highest summit of the mesa ! The timid people had 
moved up from the lower point, taking with them house 
beams, stones, and every other portion of their dwell- 
ings. The trails were rendered inaccessible and the 



22 



people ascended and descended by a movable ladder. 
Still they received the priests and submitted to the 
enforced labor of building a church, carrying, with 
infinite toil, beams of cottonwood from the Little Colo- 
rado. Many of these carved beams now support the 
roofs of the pagan kivas. Later, when the oppression 
grew too great, the Mokis committed one of the few 
overt acts which may be charged against them. They 
threw the " long gowns," as they called the friars, over 
the cliflfs, and cut loose once for all from the foreign 
religion. This ended the contact of the whites with the 
Mokis for long years until, at last, the Government took 
them under its protection. 

But the Moki had immemorial enemies, as has been 
hinted. The Apache, who centuries ago came out of the 
high north, a rude and fierce being, incapable of high 
things, is responsible for the acropolis towns all along 
the trails by which the Moki clans came to Tusayan. 
The history of the wanderings of the Moki to this land 
of scant promise would be interesting if all the threads 




Copyright, 1896, by G. }iliu>tun James. 



SNAKES, IN KIVA. 




If, 2>hoto. 



could be gathered together. The story 
goes somewhat in this fashion : L/ong 
ago — how long one may guess as well 
as another and get as near to it as the 
Mokis, who say it was "very, ver^' 
when " — groups of Indians belonging to 
the great Uto-Aztecan stock and other 
pueblo stocks lived over all this region. 
The limits of this vast region are more 
accurately found in the States of Utah, 
Colorado, New Mexico and Arizona and 
reach over into Mexico. This ruin- 
strewn expanse tells the story of many 
wanderings and movings about, through 
the forgotten years, before the pueblo 
peoples were settled in the places where 
the white man found them. The re- 
mains of ancient monarchies are, per- 
haps, more interesting from their connection with the 
world's histor}', but there is a fascination also in 
the leveled cities of the Southwest, under which lie 
the rude records of the ancients of the New World, 
lu the course of time and through various vicissitudes 
of war, famine or disease, some of these groups were 
broken up and the survivors forced to seek refuge 
in other tribes of their kin. This has been going on for 
millenniums. The organization of these tribes was 
rather loose, and consisted of clans which are made up 
of those related by blood ; marriages were, as they are 
now, prohibited between members of the same clan. 
This was another cause of mixture. So it happened 
that in our deserts there was a wandering of the ancient 
people like that of the chosen people, but their simple 
clothing waxed old, their towns waxed old, and their 
mother corn only blessed them by hard labor. It would 
seem at the first glance that some great unrest filled the 



24 




WOLPI, FROM BELOW. 



miters, photii. 



breasts of the ancient pueblo dwellers and forced them 
to forever move on. Ruins without number attest the 
flux of population over an area in which the countries 
of the ancients of the Old World would be lost. Still 
these ruins are not without order ; the clans moved 
along together in those dark ages, so that the ruins are 
found in groups. Thus if we hark back on the trail by 
which some of the clans came from the south to Tusa- 
yan, the Mogollon Mountains at Chavez Pass will show 




TWIN BUTTES AND CLOUDS. 



Vroman,j)hoto. 




AN ARIZONA CLOUD EFFECT. 



,iKin,2,lii,t<>. 



two large ruins to which Moki tradition gives the name 
of **the place of the antelopes." Thirty-two miles to 
the north is the next stopping place, and the clans must 
have prospered in the valley of the Little Colorado at 
Winslow, for here are the ruins of five towns, called by 
those versed in the lore of the past Homolobi, or "the 
place of the two views." The grand panorama of the 
Moki buttes seen from "the place of the antelopes" 
was still visible from Homolobi, though at a lower view- 
point. Long before the conquistador es came to ravage 
the New World, the people of Homolobi had abandoned 
their towns and taken up their weary journey to Tusa- 
yan, where now are seven towns of the " good people." 
It is interesting to find that in Wolpi different clans live 
in difi'erent sections of the town just as they had camped 
together in the old daj'S, and in the order in which they 
came from their desert wandering. This journey of 
some of the clans of Mokis began much farther away 
than the two faint points on the dim Mogollones where 
antelopes range to this day. To say that the Mokis 
belong by language to the great Uto-Aztecan stock 
means that in bygone times they were in contact with 
the Aztecs or may even have been a branch of that far- 
famed people. Just here, if it might be possible to correct 



26 




AN ARIZONA CAMP. 



the popular hallucination in reference to the Aztecs, 
it would be well to say that that mysterious and ever- 
vanishing people were nothing more nor less than Amer- 
ican Indians. In some lines of work the Mokis of 
Homolobi, for instance, were superior to the Aztecs. 
Romance and the Aztecs have been sadly mixed up by 
the writers of a past generation. ,.,<,, i ^^ 

The towns of Tusayan are seven. Wolpi, " the place 
of the gap," named for the deep cut across the mesa on 
which it is built, is best known. The people are very 
friendly and are more advanced than the other tribes. 



27 



There is a school and many families live below the mesa 
in red-roofed houses. Perhaps in a few years the old 
pueblo will be abandoned and the quaint customs for- 
gotten. 

Next to Wolpi on the east is Si-chom^-ovi, " the 
mound of flowers," an offshoot of Wolpi — on account of 
a disagreement, it is thought. 

Ha^-no (also known as Te''-wa) is the third village on 
the First or East Mesa, near the gap. Hano is a village 
of Tewans who were induced to come from the Rio 
Grande two centuries ago to assist in defending the 
peaceful Mokis from the Apaches and Utes. They were 
located at the head of the easiest trail up the mesa, and 
on a smooth rock face is an inscription recording a 
battle in which the}' vanquished the Utes. These 
"keepers of the trail" are expert potters, and 
most of the Moki ware is of their handicraft. It 
seems strange to find 
Tusaj'an these foreigners 
still speaking a language 
different from that of their 
neighbors. 

Seven miles to the west, 
across the valle}' from 
Wolpi, the point of Second 
or Middle Mesa stands out 
in silhouette. The first 
town is called Mi-shong^- 
inovi, second in size in 
Tusayan. The Snake 
dance is held here in odd 

years, as at Wolpi. , 

At such times | 
the large interior 
plaza is extremely 
picturesque. On 




WOLPI FOOT TRAIL. 



Htller^i, photo. 




PUEBLOLOFUSICHOMOVI 



HiUevSyplioto. 




PUEBLO OF TEWA (hANo). 



Hillers, photo. 




CORN CARRIER. 



the east trail to Mishong- 
iuovi there is a curious 
hanging rock forming an 
arch under which the trail 
passes. 

Back of Mishonginovi is 
the small town of Shi-pauF-ovi, 
place of the peaches," the most pic- 
turesquely located of the Moki pu- 
eblos, and with the most elevated 
situation. Shipaulovi is a comparatively modern town, 
having been formed by families from Shung o^-pavi since 
the Spaniards introduced peaches. Here the Snake 
dance is held in even years, alternating with that of the 

Flute. 

Shungopavi, " the place of the reed grass," is a few 

miles west of Shipaulovi. Reed grass is prescribed for 

the mats wound around the ceremonial wedding blankets 

of white cotton. A small country place of Shungopavi 

is located at Little Burro Spring, 

some twelve miles south of the 

town. 

Oraibi, with its fifty mile distant 
little offshoot, Mo"-en-kop'-i, marks 
the extreme western, as Taos marks 
the eastern, extent of the pueblo 
region. Nearly one -half, or about 
eight hundred, of the Mokis live in 
Oraibi. The Snake Society at this 
pueblo, though fewer in numbers 
than at several of the other towns, 
gives an interesting performance. 
The large open plaza where the dance 
is held offers excellent opportunities 
for photographing and for viewing 
the spectacle. 




31 



MAIL CARRIER. 




SPINNER. 



In the even years visitors to 
-'^ Tusayan may see three Snake dances 
l^Y^i — those of Oraibi, Shipaulovi, and 
1- Shungopavi, unless the dates coin- 
cide, which they are unlikely to do. 
The Province of Tusayan, where 
the Mokis now live and thrive, is 
not a total desert waste, although 
the first impression of those 
accustomed to green 
fields and frequent rains 
is likely to be to the 
contrary. Drought- 
defying plants bloom at 
certain seasons, and fill 
wide stretches with color. 
Along the sandy washes, adjacent to the pueblos, which 
rarely by the good will of the rain gods show a silver 
glint of water, are corn fields and melon and bean 
patches, well cared for and jeal- > 
ously guarded by their owners. 
Internecine war is waged against 
the freebooting crows, mice, , 
prairie dogs and insects, and woe 
betide any four-footed marauder 
that is caught foraging 
there; he is soon roasted 
and supplying proto- 
plasm to the Moki 
organism; except in case 
of a burro, when his 
ears are docked in pro- 
portion to the magni- 
tude or incorrigibility 
of his misdeed, to brand 
him publicly as a thief. 




Copyright, 1896, by F. H. Maude. Used by permission. 
BASKET-WEAVER. 







On the rocky side of the mesa are 
thriving peach orchards, perfectly 
free from blight or insect enemies, 
and in the proper season loaded down 
with luscious fruit of which the 
Mokis are extravagantly fond. A few 
cottonwoods among the fields, the 
peach trees, and the cedars along the 
mesa sides, are all the trees to be 
seen. These cedar forests are to the 
Moki towns what a vein of coal is to 
a civilized town — the fuel supply 
always getting farther away and 
harder to reach, because the annual 
growth of a desert cedar is almost 
imperceptible. Though veins of coal 
peep out in many places near the 
pueblos, the Mokis do not use it, 
although they seem to have known 
what coal is long before our wise men 
settled the question; the native name 
for it is "rock wood," koowa, a word 
which resembles our word coal. The 
score or so of fruits, grains and veg- 
etables which the Mokis plant would, 
in favorable seasons, cause peace and 
plenty to reign in Tusayan, but Moki 
history has some sad tales of famine. 
When the crops fail, the "good people" of necessity 
fall back on the crops of nature's own sowing in the 
desert. Old people still gather a plant for greens, 
which they say has before now preserved the tribe from 
starvation. Dried bunches of this plant may often be 
seen ornamenting the rafters of their dwellings, amidst 
a medley of other curious things. The fare of the 
pueblo is eked out in ordinary times with edible roots. 




MOTHER AND CHILD. 



33 




SPINNER AND WEAVER. 



seeds, berries, and leaves 
gathered from far and 
near. The Mokis are 
practical botanists. No 
plant has escaped their 
piercing ej-es ; they have 
given them names and 
found out their good and 
bad qualities; pressed 
them into service for 
food, medicine, religion, 
basket making and a hun- 
dred other uses, from an 
antidote for snake bites 
to a hair brush. They 
are also perforce vegeta- 
rians. Oriate, the Conqueror, said slightingly of Zufii 
that there were as many rabbits as people around it. 
Such a condition of things in Tusayan would fill the 
Moki with joy, for he has the same fondness for rabbit 
as the negro has for " 'possum with coon gravy." 
Snakes seem to be more plentiful than rabbits, although 
it takes ardent hunting to catch enough reptiles for the 
Snake dance. Rats, mice, prairie dogs and an occa- 
sional deceased burro or goat vary the menu of the 
pueblos. The Mokis never eat their dogs, though to 
do so would be at least putting them to some use. 

Centuries ago, when the Mokis lived in the White 
Mountains and the Mogollones, they must have been 
hunters. What could have driven them from that para- 
dise of coolness and greenery ? There under the giant 
pines roamed elk, deer, antelope and bear; in the brush 
were turkey; in the trees birds and squirrels; in the cool 
streams were trout, and the wild bees furnished delicious 
honey. There was abundant rain, and in the broad 
valleys corn could be raised b}- "dry farming." For 



34 




PUEBLO OF MISHONGINOVI. 



liithrs, photo. j 




PUEBLO OF SHIPAULOVL 



llilltrs, pliuto. 




DRESS WEAVING. 



Muiide, photo. 



that Arizonian oasis 
of flowers and plent}' 
the ancestors of the 
Moki often must 
have sighed, but 
desert and a crust 
were preferable to 
the bloodthirsty 
Apache. This is the 
history of many an 
enforced migration. 
Now, pursuing 
the order in which 
the traveler becomes 
familiar with the 
surroundings of the Moki, from the distant approach, 
when the mesas swim in the mirage with the dim 
outlines of the cell towns on their crests, to when he 
encamps by the corn fields and springs at their base, 
we will next toil up the trail to visit. P'ar out in the 
plain the watchful Moki from his high vantage has seen 
the approach of visitors, and the news flies fast. There 
will surely be some of the inhabitants to greet the 
traveler when he arrives, to wonder at his outfit, ask for 
piba and matchi {t6ha.Q.co and matches), run errands and 
be on the lookout for windfalls of food. 
If the traveler wishes a washerman, a 
boy to graze the horses or carry water 
and wood, or if he wishes to rent a 
house, he will soon find willing 
hands and plenty of advisers. Shiba 
(silver) makes things run smoothl}- 
here as in civilization. 
Starting at the altitude 
of a mile and one-fourth, 
the climbing of a mesa 




DYER. 



Voih, photo. 



is somewhat of a task to the unaccustomed. When the 
fierce sun is high, the cUmb may have frequent periods 
of pause, and the natives who run up and down the mesa 
as though it were a short flight of stairs are objects 
of envy But when the ascent is made and one sits m 
the shade and hospitahty of a Moki interior, the exer- 
tion is repaid. It is a new and memorable experience. 




PUEBLO OF SHUNGOPAVl 



HiUers, photo 



The nineteenth century civiUzation, with its tall build- 
ings and bustling crowds, fades away and we are in the 
ancient past of the southwest wonderland. 

The Mokis are almost invariably pleased to have 
white visitors enter their houses. Most of them invite 
you in, all smiles and hospitality. In most cases, though, 
where there is any doubt it is better to say, " een quaqin 




ORAIBI GIRLS GRINDING CORN. 



isiP' (am I wel- 
come?) which 
brings a hearty 
response. The 
houses have 
thick walls of 
flat stone, laid 
up in mud, plas- 
tered inside and 
out, and are 
pleasantly cool 
in the summer. 
The hard, smooth, plastered floor is the general sitting 
place, with the interposition of a blanket or sheep- 
skin. The low bench, or ledge, which often runs 
around the room, is also used as a seat. Perhaps 
the ceiling will appear strange. The large Cottonwood 
beams with smaller cross-poles backed with brush; above 
that, grass and a top layer of mud form a ver}- picturesque 
ceiling and effective roof. From the center of the ceiling 
hangs a feather tied to a cotton string. This is the soul 
of the house and the sign of its dedication; no house is 
without one. Around the walls and from the beams 
hang all sorts of quaint belongings — painted wooden 
dolls, bows and arrows, strings of dried herbs and myste- 
rious bundles, likely of trappings for the dances — enough 
to stock a museum. In well-to-do families 
the blanket pole, extending across the room, 
is loaded with their riches in the shape of 
harness, sashes, blankets and various 
other valuables. In one corner is a 
fireplace with hood ; sunk in the floor 
are the corn mills ; near by is a 
large water jar with dipper, and 
sundry pieces of pottery are scat- 
tered about. Usually the 




MAKING BREAD (PIKi>. 




A COURT IN ORAIBI. 



Uillers, photo. 



general assembly room is kept clean with the brushes 
made of grass stems, which serve also for hair brushes 
betimes. This parlor, sitting room, sleeping room, 
dining room and mealing room combined, serves 
nearly every purpose of the family; but there is always 
a grain room, where the corn is piled in neat rows, 
and sometimes a room is set apart for baking. The 
houses are rarely higher than two stories, the upper 
being set back in terrace style, so that its front door 
yard is the roof of the lower. The ladders are pic- 
turesque; dogs and chickens, as well as people, climb 
up and down. Stone steps on the partition walls 
lead to the roofs, and when on top it is possible to 
wander almost all over the town, as in the Orient. Ajar 
with the bottom knocked out caps the chimney, or a 
whole stack of jars runs clear up from the lower floor, 
securely plastered around the joints, making an excel- 
lent chimney. Short billets of pifion or cedar are piled 
up on the walls for firewood, and not a chip or strand of 
bark is wasted from the family w^oodpile. From the pro- 
jecting beam ends and from pegs in the house front hangs 



39 




an old curiosity shop ot 
articles — eagle traps, 
gourds, hoes, planting 
sticks, sheep bones, and 
many other articles that 
keep one guessing. On 
the top of a house in Moki- 
land once was seen a curi- 
ous structure, having 
slanting sides formed of 
bits of boards. On closer 
examination it was found 
to be a plow, which the 
good people at Washington 
had sent the Mokis, now doing service as a chicken 
coop. Outside the door by the street is the piganie 
oven, in which green corn pudding is baked, food dear 
to the Moki heart and acceptable to any white visitor 
who does not know that the women chew the yeast 
to ferment the batter. This oven is a pit in the ground 
two or three feet deep. Before baking, a fire is made in 
it, and after the walls of the oven are heated the ashes 
are raked out and the pudding, called pigatne, is put 
in and the top covered with a stone on which the fire 
is kept burning. The pudding is put in the oven at 



Yoth, photo. 
ORAIBI WASHERWOMAN. 




PUEBLO OF ORAIBI. 



Maude, photo. 



nightfall usually, and by morning 
it is well baked and ready to be 
wrapped in corn husks for con- 
sumption, 

A stroll about a Moki town will 
convince the explorer that there 
are streets full of "surprises," as 
we call unexpected nooks and 
corners in our own houses. Just 
what the building regulations are 
no one has yet divulged, but the 
lay of the ground has much to do 
with the arrangement. Wolpi is 
crowded upon the point of a nar- 
row mesa, and some of the houses 
are perched on the edge of the 
precipice, their foundation walls 
going down many feet, the build- 
ing of which is a piece of adven- 
turous engineering. Many of the 

towns have passages under the houses leading from one 
street to another. The stone surface of the street is 
deeply worn by the bare or moccasined feet of many 

generations. The trail over 
the dizzy narrows between 
Wolpi and Sichomovi is 
worn like a wagon track 
in places from four to six 
inches deep. The end of a 
ladder sticking up through 
a hatchway in a low mound 
slightly above the 
level of the street 
marks the way 
down into an 
u n d ergroun d 




SICHOMOVI FOOT TRAIL. 




A MESA CLIFFSIDE. 




A MOKI INTERIOR. 



i'luman, photo. 



room, where strange ceremonies are held. This is a kiva, 
and if we are hardy enough to brave the usual warning 
to the uninitiated, we may peep down without fear of 
swelling up and bursting. Perhaps, if there is no cere- 
mony going on, a weaver may be making a blanket 
on his simple loom ; likely it is deserted, dusky and 
quiet with no suggestion of writhing serpents or naked 
votaries and weird chanting. All streets lead to the 
plaza, the center of interest, set apart for the many 
dances ; some solemn and awe-inspiring, some grotesque 
and amusing ; all dramatic in action and marvelous in 
color. In the center of the plaza is a stone box. This 
is a shrine, the focus at which all ceremonies center, and 
beneath it is the opening into the underworld of 



42 




POTTERS. 



departed ancestors. 
Around most plazas in 
Tusayan the houses are 
built solidly ; at Wolpi 
the dances take place on 
a narrow shelf above 
the dizzy sandstone 
cliffs ; at Oraibi one side of the plaza where the Snake 
dance is enacted is open and the distant San Francisco 
mountains stand plainly on the horizon. 

Outside the town there is also something to see. 
The general ash pile with its stray burro engaged in a 
hopeless task of finding something to eat is passed by, 
and one looks down over the brow of the mesa at the 
corrals among the rocks on a narrow ledge crowded with 
bleating sheep and goats. The trails wind down the 
mesa, across the fields, and are lost in the country lymg 
spread out below like a map. Under the rocks a woman 
is digging out clay for pottery, other women are toihng 
up with jars of water from the 
springs, while on the steep slope 
among the jagged fragments of 
stone is perhaps the last resting 
place of the inhabitants, strewn 
with bits of pottery. The springs 
in Tusayan come out near the 
base of the mesas, and the labor 
of carrying water up some 600 feet 
by means of the female beast of 
burden puts water at a premium. 
It is a blessing that the dry, 
searching air of the elevated 
region, and the fierce sun, do not 
render bathing an actual neces- 
sity. Most of the springs yield 
little water, so that a large party 



43 




Maude, photo. 
A MOKl FAMILY. 




of visitors with horses 
camping about a pueblo 
will give rise to fears of 
a water famine. Placed 
on the borders of every 
spring, down close to 
the water, ma}^ be seen 
short painted sticks 
with feather plumes — 
prayer ofiferings to the 
gods for a continued 
supply of the precious 
fluid, the scarcity of 
which from clouds or 
springs has had to do 
with the origin of 
many ceremonies in the 
Southwest. The lack of 
water even fills in a 
large part of the conversation of white visitors in this 
dry country, taking the place of the weather, which is 
unlikely to change. 

Let us follow up the trail again after the toiling 
water carriers, returning from the general meeting and 
gossiping place, the spring. Let no one think that 
there has been a lack of company in the course of these 
wanderings. There are the children first, last and all 
the time, all pervading, timid, but made bold by the 
prospect of sweets. It is amusing to see a little tot 
come hesitatingly as near as he dares to a white vis- 
itor, and say, *'Hel-lo ken-te " (candy). Unclad before 
three or four years of age, the little ones look like 
animated bronzes — ' ' fried cupids, " one amused onlooker 
has termed them. The older girls have general charge 
of the young ones, and carry them about pick-a-back; 
sometimes it is difficult to tell whether the carrier or 



AN ORAIBI GIRL. 



44 



9^§ 




A MISHONGINOVI GIRL. 



the carried is the larger. The children 
are good, and seem never to need cor- 
rection, and anyone can see with half an 
eye that the Mokis love their little ones. 
They never are so flattered as 
when attention is paid to the 
children. Do this with an ad- 
miring look, accompanied by the 
word '' Lo'-lomai'' (good, excel- 
lent, pretty), and the parental 
heart is won. When the rains 
fill the rock basins on the mesa, 
these youngsters have a famous 
time bathing, squirming like 
tadpoles in the pools, splashing 
and chasing each other. The 
Moki childlife must be a uniformly happy one, except m 
the season of green things, when they are allowed to eat 
without limit. The statistics of highest mortality must 
coincide with the time of watermelons, which are never 
too unripe to eat. Dogs, chickens 
and burros also add to the pictur- 
esqueness of a Moki village. The 
burros have the run of the town, 
and furnish amusement for the 
children. When providence or luck 
has prevented a burro from stealing 
corn, his ears have a normal, if not 
graceful length. Few there are, 
though, that have not paid penalty 
by the loss of one or both of these 
appendages. Chickens and dogs 
are a sorry lot. The latter lie in 
the corners and shady places, and 
only become animate and vocal at 
night, with true coyote instinct. 



45 




A MISHONGINOVI WOMAN. 




SNAKE KIVA, ORAIBI. 



A shrill whistle denotes that some 
Moki is the fortunate possessor of 
an eagle to supply him with the 
prized feathers for ceremonials. 
The man who is opulent enough 
to keep a turkey also has feathers 
for the gathering. Women 
go about on various errands 
or pay visits in which gossip 
bears a large share. Many a 
pair of dark eyes peep out 
from the light - hole in the 
walls of the houses, or a 
maiden with hair done up in 
whorls takes a modest glance at the strangers. The 
weird, high-pitched songs of the corn grinders, and 
the rumble of the mealing-stones, are familiar sounds 
in a Moki village. If you see a woman or maiden with 
face powdered with corn flour, it means that she has 
been busy grinding in the hopper-like mills sunken in 
the floor of every house, — and ver}^ hard labor it is. 
Most of the able-bodied men are in the fields if the time 
is summer, that is if no ceremony is going on — a rare 
contingency. Moki men are not afraid of work. From 
youth until the time w^heu they are enrolled in the class 
of the lame, halt and blind, they do their share for the 
support of the clan. Not 
averse to soothing the 
baby as his white brother 
sometimes may be, his 
domestic habits will not 
take him so far as to do 
women's work. Since the 
time when his sweetheart 
combed his raven locks in 
sign of betrothal, and he ^^^■ni^^^^.^i . ' rj«. > 




Q, Wharton James. 



Utied hy permission. 
ANTELOPE ALTAR IN KIVA. 



had woven the wedding blanket, and the simple 
marriage forms were observed, the traditional division of 
labor has not been transgressed. Man's work and 
woman's work are portioned oflf by the laws of unalter- 
able custom. The division seems fair as to the amount 
of labor. A popular illusion that the Indian makes his 
wife do all the work is dispelled here, as another, that 
Indians are always gruff and taciturn, will vanish after 
a quarter of an hour's acquaintance with the jovial, 
laughing Mokis. The house belongs to the woman, and 
it is proper that she should 
do the labor connected with 
it, grind the corn, carry the 
water, do the cooking, keep 
the house tidy, and mind the 
baby. Fortunately, Moki 
babies do not long require 
much attention ; they soon 
take care of themselves 
under the general super- 
vision of the older children. 
The young boys, perhaps, 
with bow in hand, go to the 
field with the men, for here 
is where man's work comes 
in under the broiling sun, 
preparing the ground, plant- 
ing the crops, hoeing, keep- 
ing off the crows, prairie dogs, mice and insects, setting 
up breaks against the wind or sudden rush of water, 
gathering the crops and bringing them to the house on 
the mesa. He brings wood chopped from the pirions 
and cedars several miles away, and hustles generally to 
supply the family. If he has horses and a wagon by the 
bounty of JVasintona, he may get odd jobs of hauling, 
which bring him in money for sugar, coffee and white 




Votli, jihnto 



WOMEN'S UANut, ORAIBI. 



47 




man's flour, purchasable from the 

trader. Besides their customary 
I work, some of the women have 

other occupations. At the East 
THIEF BURRO. Mcsa shc may be a potter, at the 

Middle Mesa or Oraibi a basket 
maker, but never a weaver, for that, strangely enough, 
is man's work. In the quiet of her house the basket 
maker is busy, for are not many Pahanas coming to the 
Snake dance ? Sugar and baking powder for the feast 
may depend on the sales of baskets. Around her on the 
floor are gay colored splints of yucca leaf, dyed with the 
evanescent aniline colors introduced by the traders. 
Some of the strips are being moistened in a bed of damp 
sand, from which they are taken to be sewn through and 
over, covering the coil of grass with geometric designs. 
The needle is really an awl; now of iron, formerly of 
bone. At Oraibi, where one of the three Snake dances 
held inTusayan in the even years occurs, painted baskets 
of wicker are made. The}^ are very decorative. The 
potter also plies her craft for the advent of the white 
man. The clay has been gathered, prepared, and made 
into vessels of forms tempting to the visitor, painted 
and burned at the foot of the mesa so that the villainous 
smoke will not choke everyone. Her wares are quaint 
and not half bad. Nampeo, at Hano, is the best potter 
in all Moki-land. 

Of course little figures have to be carved from cotton- 
wood, painted and garnished to resemble the numerous 
divinities of the Mokis who take part in the ceremonies. 
Men and women make them for their children, who 
thus get kindergarten instruction on the appearance of 
the inhabitants of the spiritual world. These "dolls" 
can often be bought ; they are among the most curious 
souvenirs of the Moki. The weaver, too, spends his 
odd times in weaving the far-famed blankets of wool, 

48 



dyed blue with sunflower seeds. He knows well the way 
to weave pretty diaper patterns which remind one of 
French worsted designs. The blankets are serviceable to 
the last degree and in the loose garment of the women 
will, perhaps, endure a whole generation. Belts of bright 
colored yarns, embroidered kilts of cotton and embroid- 
ered woolen sashes are chef-d' oeiivres of the weaver. 

The light side of life is uppermost in Moki-land. The 
disposition of the Moki is to make w'ork a sport, neces- 
sity a pleasure and to have a laugh or joke ready in 
an instant. This is the home of song makers; the 
singing of the men at work, of the mother to her babe, 
of the corn grinders, of the priests in assembly chamber 
or in the /^/z'«-vault, constantly ripples forth. There is 
no need for songs of the day ; love songs, lullabys, 
war songs, hunting songs, songs secular and religious 
give variet}' in plenty. The dark side exists, to be sure, 
but the Mokis are so like children that a smile lurks just 
behind a sorrow. The seriousness and gravity with 
which the ceremonials are conducted is very impressive, 
and no one who has seen the Snake dance will fail to 
note that the Moki can be grave at times. Telling 
stories is one of the amusements of winter around the 
fireside. Until the ground is frozen it is dangerous to 
relate the deeds of the ancients : then they have gone 
away and will not overhear to the harm of the stor}-- 
teller. Rabbit hunting is another favorite amusement, 
and parties of young men often do more hard work in 
one day thus than in a month otherwise with few results 
to show of " long ears " slain by the curved boomerang. 
In the proper season berrying parties go out for a day's 
picnic ; the Mokis enjoy traveling, and a journey of 
fifteen or twenty miles to a berry patch and back is not 
thought anj'thing out of common. When the green 
corn comes then the Moki lives bountifully. Tall col- 
umns of W'hite steam arising in the cornfields at early 

49 



morning invite to a feast of roast corn taken from the 
newly opened pit-oven. Then there is feasting while the 
ears are hot and jollity reigns. One thing will strike 
the visitor as curious : the Mokis do not gamble or drink 
fire-water, even when they have an opportunity. They 
do like tobacco, though, and the visitor who smokes will 
do well to lay in an extra supply, for after the first 
greeting, '*/z7z,'' the next query will be ^^piba^^ (to- 
bacco), followed by " fnatchi^^ (matches), and a friendly 
smoke council is held then and there. 

The Mokis are the best entertained people in the 
world. A round of ceremonies, each terminating in the 
pageants called "dances," keeps going pretty continu- 
ously the whole year. The theaters and other shows in 
the closely built pueblos of the white man fall far short 
of entertaining all the people, as do the Moki shows. 
Then the Moki spectacles are free. The scheme of hav- 
ing a gatekeeper on the trails to demand an entrance fee, 
while it has great possibilities, has never entered the 
Moki mind. This, too, for a good reason. These cere- 
monies are religious and make up the complicated wor- 
ship of the people of Tusayan. Even a visitor bent on 
sightseeing alone will be impressed with the seriousness 
of the Indian dancers and the evidence of deep feeling — 
perhaps it should be called devotion — in the onlookers. 
Not only in the somber Snake dance, but in every other 
ceremony of Tusayan the actors are inspired by one pur- 
pose and that is to persuade the gods to give rain and 
abundant crops. So the birds that fly, the reptiles that 
creep, are made messengers to the great nature gods 
with petitions, and the different ancestors and people 
in the underworld are notified that the ceremony is 
going on that they too may give their aid. The amount 
of detail connected with the observance of one of the 
ceremonies is almost beyond belief, and being carried on 
in the dark kivas has rarely been witnessed by others 

50 



than the initiated priests. Thus the 
many observances which come around 
from time to time in two years are 
quite a tax on the memory of the 
adepts. 

The ceremonial year of the Moki 
is divided equally by two great events, 
the departure of the kachinas in 
August and their arrival in Decem- 
ber, The kachinas are the spirits of 
the ancestors whose special pleasure 
it is to watch over Tusayan. When 
the crops are assured they depart for 
Nuvatikiobi, "the place of the high snows," or San 
Francisco Mountain. After their departure come the 
Snake and Flute dances, ^mong others, and all the 
dances up to the return of the kachinas are called 
"nine days' ceremonies," while the joyous kachina 
dances are known as the "masked dances." 

All who become acquainted with the Mokis learn to 
respect and like them. Fortunate is the person who, 
before it is too late, sees under so favorable aspect their 
charming life in the old new world. 

WAI.TER Hough. 




A TEWA GIRL. 



THE SNAKE LEGEND. 

The Suake dance is an elaborate prayer for rain, in which the 
reptiles are gathered from the fields, intrusted with the praj'ers of 
the people, and then given their liberty to bear these petitions to 
the divinities who can bring the blessing of copious rains to the 
parched and arid farms of the Hopis. It is also a dramatization of 
an ancient half-mythic, half-historic legend dealing with the origin 
and migration of the two fraternities which celebrate it, and by 
transmission through unnumbered generations of priests has be- 
come conventionalized to a degree, and possibly the actors them- 
selves could not now explain the significance of every detail of the 
ritual. The story is of an ancestral Snake-youth, Ti'yo, who, pon- 
dering the fact that the water of the river flowed ever in the same 



51 



direction past his home without returning or filling up the gorge 
below, adventurously set out to ascertain what became of it. He 
carried with him, by paternal gift, a precious box containing some 
eagle's down and a variety of prayer-sticks (pahos) for presentation 
to the Spider-woman, the Ancient of the Six Cardinal Points, the 
Woman of the Hard Substance (such as turquoise, coral and shell), 
the Sun, and the underworld divinity who makes all the germs of 
life. The Spider- woman was propitiated and cordially became his 
counselor and guide. She prepared a liquid charm to be taken in 
the mouth and spurted upon angry beasts and snakes for their paci- 
fication, and perched herself invisibly on his ear. Then through 
the sipapu they plunged to the underworld. There, following float- 
ing wisps of the eagle's down, they journeyed from place to place, 
safely passing the great snake Gato'ya, and savage wild beast sen- 
tinels, visiting Hi'canavaiya, who determines the path of the rain- 
clouds, and Hi'zriingwikti, the ancient woman who every night 
becomes an enchanting maiden ; had a smoke with Ta'wa, the Sun, 
and went with him to inspect the place where he rises ; meeting 
Miiiyingwuh on the way and receiving friendly assurances from 
that creative divinity. He rode across the sky on the Sun's shoulder 
and saw the whole world, and learned from his flaming charioteer 
that the possession most dearly to be prized was the rain-cloud. So 
he returned to the kiva near the great snake, and from the Snake 
Antelope men there learned what songs to sing, what prayer-sticks 
to fashion and how to paint his body, that the rain-cloud might 
come. The chief gave him much important paraphernalia, and 
two maidens who knew the charm preventing death from the bite 
of the rattlesnake. These maidens Tiyo took home, giving one to 
his younger brother, where the youthful couples took up their abode 
in separate kivas. At night low clouds trailed over the village, and 
Snake people from the underworld came from them and went into 
the kivas. On the following morning they were found in the val- 
leys, transformed into reptiles of all kinds. This occurred for four 
days. Then (ninth morning) the Snake maidens said, " We under- 
stand this ; let the j-ounger brothers (the Snake Society) go out and 
bring them all in and wash their heads, and let them dance with 
you." This was done, and prayer-meal sprinkled upon them, and 
then they were carried back ko the valleys, and they returned to 
the Snake kiva of the underworld bearing the petitions of all the 
people. 

(Condensed from the account by J. Walter Fewkes, in Jour. Am. 
Ethn. and Arch., Vol. IV.) 

It is only the ninth day's ceremony, the dance with 
the snakes, which is publicly performed. 



52 



MOKI CEREMONIES. 

It will be noted that the Snake dances occur during 
the month of August, the date being between the 15th 
and 26th, and announced a few days prior to the begin- 
ning of the nine days' ceremonies, of which the dance is 
the public culmination. In the even years (1902, 1904, 
1906, etc.) they occur at Oraibi, Shipaulovi and Sichom- 
ovi ; in the odd j-ears (1901, 1903, 1905, etc.), at Wolpi 
and Mishonginovi. The Flute dances, a picturesquely 
impressive but less exciting ceremony, occur at the 
above-named pueblos in years alternating with the Snake 
dance. For example, 1900 being the year of the Snake 
dance at Oraibi, the Flute dance at that pueblo wnll occur 
in 1901 ; and 1899 having been the year of the Snake 
dance at Wolpi, a Flute dance occurred there in 1900. 



ROUTES TO THE MOKI PUEBLOS. 

Far from being difficult of access, the Province 
of Tusayan is easily reached either by saddle horse or 
wheel conveyance from several towns on the Santa Fe 
Pacific Railroad, a division of the transcontinental line 
of the Santa Fe route. The trip can be made most con- 
veniently by travelers to or from California as a side 
excursion en route, but the experience will amply repay 
a special journey across the continent. Some fatigue 
and lack of comforts incident to roughing it are well- 
nigh inseparable from such an excursion, involving as it 
does the traversing of from seventy to over one hundred 
miles of the Great American Desert, depending upon the 
point selected for departure from the railroad. But 
these very features are accounted no small part of the 
attractions of the trip, as lovers of outdoor life amid 
scenes of novel and extraordinary interest need not be 



58 



told. Indeed, if the pueblos as an objective point did 
not exist, a voyage into that country of extinct volcanoes 
and strangely sculptured and tinted rocks and mesas 
would be well worth the making. While the round trip 
from the railroad may be made in four or five days, or 
less if desired, it can be pleasurably prolonged indefi- 
nitely. Aside from the powerful charm exerted by this 
region upon all visitors, there is an invigorating tonic 
quality in the pure air of Arizona that is better than 
medicine for the overworked in the exhausting activities 
of city business life. Many a professional man (and 
woman), wearied in brain and enfeebled in body, having 
been solicited to make this or a similar outdoor excursion 
in Arizona, has complied with misgiving and returned 
almost miraculously restored to health and vigor. 
Testimony to this fact can be furnished by reference 
to many well-known individuals, who, were they 
entirely free to indulge their preferences, would every 
summer forego the seaside and the fashionable watering- 
place and return to Arizona to mount a sturdy bronco, 
and forget for a time the cares and conventionalities of 
civilized life in a simple, wholesome and joyous existence 
in the sunlit air of the desert. 

At the stations named all needful transportation 
facilities are provided, whose proprietors are accustomed 
to convey passengers every summer to the Snake dances. 
A visit to the Moki pueblos may, however, be made at 
any season, except in midwinter, and will at any time 
prove richly interesting. Arrangements should be made 
in advance by correspondence, which may be addressed 
to either the local agent of the Santa Fe, W. J. Black, 
General Passenger Agent, Topeka, Kan., or Chicago; 
W. S. Keenan, General Passenger Agent, Galveston ; 
Jno. J. Byrne, General Passenger Agent, Los Angeles ; 
or John L. Truslow, General Agent, San Francisco. 



54 



[Note. — The distances given are approximate, as in some 
cases, particularly between the different pueblos, they depend 
upon whether the wagon or the horse trail is followed, the latter 
being shorter. The transportation charges also depend somewhat 
upon the size of the party. One or two persons traveling light by 
way of the shortest route could reach Oraibi in one day if desired. 
I^arger or more leisurely parties would require two days, or longer 
by the less direct routes.] 



Canon Diablo Route. 

To McAllister's Crossing 15 

Volz's Store, "The Fields " 17 

Little Burro Spring 22 

Big Burro Spring 3 

Oraibi 16 



miles 



Middle Mesa 



Wolpi 



73 
20 

93 
10 

103 



Note.— From " The Fields " there is a horse trail, northeasterly 
course, to Middle Mesa, 43 miles, and to Wolpi, 53 miles. 

Charges. — |2o round trip, for conveyance by wagon ; 
meals $1 each, and lodging $1 per night. 



55 



Winslow Route. 

I. 

To Rocky Ford Crossing 9 miles 

Junction with Canon Diablo road 

north of Volz's Store 30 *' 

L/ittle Burro 20 " 



59 miles 



Oraibi 20 



79 " 
Wolpi 22 



Wolpi to Middle Mesa 10 

Middle Mesa to Oraibi 20 



III 
2. 

To Rocky Ford Crossing 9 miles 

Pyramid Butte 26 " 

Commoh's Spring 10 *• 

Touchez-de-nez (Sigenis) 25 " 

Wolpi 5 " 

75 

Middle Mesa 10 " 

Oraibi 20 " 



105 
Charges. — Named on application. Team and driver 
for four should cost not to exceed ^5 per day, passengers 
furnishing their own bedding and provisions. Winslow 
is provided with hotel accommodations and outfitting 
stores. 



56 



Holbrook Route. 



To La Reaux Wash 1 1 miles 

Well near Cottonwood Wash 6 

Cottonwood Wash crossing 3 

Malpais Spring 13 

Bittahoochee 7 

Tonnael Malpais Spring 12 

Jeditoh Valley Spring 22 

Keam's Canon 6 

Wolpi 10 



90 

Middle Mesa 10 

Oraibi 20 



120 



Charges. — $15 round trip, for conveyance by wagon, 
passengers providing their own camp outfit and provi- 
sions. Holbrook has good livery and hotel accommoda- 
tions, and stores. 



Flagstaff Route. 

To Turkey Tauks 19 miles 

Grand Falls Crossing 22 " 

Little Burro 45 " 

Oraibi 18 " 

104 " 

Middle Mesa 20 " 

Wolpi 10 " 

134 " 
Charges. — For wagon conveyance, $2$ round trip. 
Board $2, per day, and lodging $1 per night. Or pas- 
sengers may provide their own outfit and provisions 
and arrange with liverymen for transportation only. 
Hotel accommodations, livery and stores at Flagstaff 
are excellent. 

It is also practicable to make the trip from Gallup. 

This route is not shown on map herein, but is reported 

to be as below : 

To Rock Spring Store 9 miles 

Hay Stack Store 12 " 

(Fort Defiance, 9 miles north.) 

Cienega 5 " 

Bear Tank (water i ^ miles north) 20 " 

Cotton & Hubbell's Store (Gaiiada) 11 " 

Eagle Crag (water i)4 miles north) 23 " 

Steamboat Canon (water 3 miles north). . . 8 " 

Keam's Canon School 18 " 

Ream's Canon Store 2 " 

Wolpi 10 " 

118 " 

Middle Mesa 10 *• 

Oraibi 20 ' • 

Charges. — Named on application. ^^8 

58 



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